


If at First You Don't Succeed

by Sparkling Pancakes (Koalith)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: After that the gloves come off, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Background Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Canon through Homecoming, Civil War Team Iron Man, Endgame what endgame?, Everybody Lives, Family Fluff, Fix-It, Gen, Irondad, No Infinity Stones, Not a canon rewrite, Plus or minus a few details, Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, with plot!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koalith/pseuds/Sparkling%20Pancakes
Summary: Six days after Tony Stark's death, Peter Parker is approached by a celestial being who claims to be the creator of the Infinity Stones. She makes a deal with him: help her destroy the Stones, and she'll send him back to a time when Tony Stark is still alive. Only an idiot would say no. Right?Featuring: angry Sorcerer Supremes, vengeful aliens, and a confused Tony Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t fair. Those words had been repeating off and on through Peter’s mind for the past six days, from the moment he’d seen Mr. Stark fading in front of his eyes, surrounded by dust and wreckage and the people who loved him. 

He could almost hear Mr. Stark’s response to his unspoken words. _ Newsflash, kid, life isn’t fair. _ He’d probably soften his tone with an awkward pat on the shoulder and a week later would have come up with some way to solve whatever problem Peter had confided, despite his cynical words.

Peter pressed the heels of his hands against his dry and burning eyes. This wasn’t something Mr. Stark could fix this time, because Mr. Stark was dead. His funeral was tomorrow, and it still didn’t seem real. A world without Mr. Stark in it was just...

He leaned back and stared up at the swooping, molded ceiling of the Sanctum, thinking about the conversation he’d overheard between Mrs. Stark and Dr. Strange the night before. They’d thought everyone else was asleep, but Peter hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time since he woke up on Titan. He’d been able to hear them through the walls of the room Mr. Stark had set up for him, apparently always believing he’d be able to save him.

_ “You knew,” Mrs. Stark said, but she sounded more tired than upset. “You knew he would die.” _

_ There was a pause before Dr. Strange’s low voice rumbled out an answer. “I did. It was the only way. Millions of possible futures and this is the only one we had a chance of winning in. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” _

_ Mrs. Stark sighed. “I know you are. This whole thing - Tony would have wanted it this way. His life in exchange for half the universe.” There was a silence that felt pointed even through the walls, and Peter tilted his head. _

_ “What is it?” Mrs. Stark asked. _

_ “He didn’t do it for half the universe,” Dr. Strange said, tone more gentle than Peter had ever heard before. Peter’s brow furrowed. What did Dr. Strange mean? Of course, Mr. Stark did it to save everyone. He was a hero, a true hero. _

_ “Peter,” Mrs. Stark breathed after another moment of silence. “He did it for Peter. The time travel, the fight. He did it all for Peter.” _

_ “His family was alive and well. He could have focused on rebuilding and relief efforts. On helping the world move forward. In timelines where he didn't realize that Peter Parker could be saved, that’s what he did. Iron Man was undeniably a hero, but he was also pragmatic, a futurist. The world would have eventually recovered with him guiding them. He wouldn’t have risked another war with such low odds against an enemy like Thanos after Earth was already so weakened. Not for the next twenty years, at least.” _

_ “He loved him,” Mrs. Stark said, “like a son. Tony’s love always was a terrible and wonderful thing.” _

Peter still didn’t know what to think about it. Had Mr. Stark really loved him like a son? From what other people had been saying to him - _ he loved you so much, he was so determined to save you, Peter - _he could almost believe it. The thought filled him with a painful sort of joy and the same deep, horrible guilt that had driven him since Ben’s death. He took in a shaky breath.

“It’s not fair,” he said out loud, his words echoing off the high ceiling of the book-filled room. 

Peter would never be able to tell him that he loved him, that Mr. Stark was more than a mentor to him, had been more for a long time. He’d always held back because, well, Mr. Stark was hard to read. Sure, he’d always been focused on Peter’s safety, but he was concerned with the safety of the whole world. Of course, he hadn’t spent hours in the lab with the rest of the world, teaching and teasing and sniping back and forth. Why had Peter been so _ blind? _

In contrast to his roiling thoughts and stomach, the room was empty and silent, only the faint thrumming power of the Infinity Stones breaking the stillness. The box that held them looked innocuous, sitting on an oak table that was probably older than his grandfather would have been if he were still alive, but Peter knew that they were anything but. Part of him wanted to pick it up and throw it against the wall, smash the stones that had caused all of this in the first place to pieces.

He looked away and squeezed his hands into fists. It was his turn to guard them. Just a few more hours and he’d never have to see them again. After the funeral tomorrow, Captain America would take them back to their respective times. The hum of their power seemed to increase, taunting him. His bones felt like they were vibrating in his body. _ He loved him like a son. _

“It’s your imagination, Peter. The Infinity Stones aren’t humming at you,” he muttered. _ Tony’s love always was a wonderful and terrible thing. _

The grief, the realization that he’d had what he’d always wanted but just didn’t see it well enough to take it bubbled up in his throat. Tears blurred his eyes. “It’s not _ fair!” _he yelled, standing so abruptly that his chair clattered to the ground behind him. He stalked over to the box, fingers fumbling at the wooden latches, breaking one off when he put too much pressure on it.

Then the lid was open and he was staring at six gleaming gems nestled in velvet. The humming cut off abruptly, and just like that, all of the fight went out of him. “All the power of the universe, and you can’t even bring him back. It’s not fair, because out of everyone - out of everyone -” a sob caught in his throat and he sat down hard on the ground and buried his face in his hands.

“How many fathers does one guy have to lose before the universe gives him a break?” he joked weakly, voice wet. First his father, then Uncle Ben, and now Mr. Stark. Peter had felt this kind of regret before, after Ben died, but it never got easier. He had never told Mr. Stark how he felt, how much he really loved him. “Now I’ll never get the chance,” he whispered.

“What is that saying you modern Terrans are so fond of? Ah, yes, never say never.” Peter was up and launching across the room before the floaty, vibrating voice had finished even three words.

He landed on the far wall, crouched with one hand sticking to the wood panel and the other extended to release a string of webbing at the figure now floating above the Infinity Stones. It was a woman, though she was unlike any person Peter would find on Earth. 

All of her features seemed stretched and elongated, from her oval face to her thin, wide eyes to her overlong limbs and torso. Her hair was probably long enough to touch the floor, though it was currently drifting around her, mingling with the fabric of what looked like a cross between a kimono and Dr. Strange’s robes.

What really caught his attention, though, were the swirling, bright colors snaking out from the Infinity Stones, moving across her, giving her form. Or, as he discovered a second later when his web went right through her to hit with an ominous plop against a row of books on the far wall, the illusion of form. Dr. Strange would kill him for webbing his books when he found out.

She tilted her head to the side, and when she blinked the lids came from the side of her eyes, moving quickly across them before retracting. What was the point of blinking when you’re non-corporeal? “Spiderling. That’s what he called you. Yes?”

“How - what -”

“I know the mind of everyone who has ever used one of my Stones. Out of all of them, he shone the brightest. Almost as bright as your essence did while trapped inside the soul stone.”

“Oh, well, that’s me, a ray of sunshine,” he quipped to hide his reeling thoughts.

Her thin, almost non-existent lips turned up into a smile. “Yes. He called you that, too.”

Peter skittered to the side a few feet, hopefully out of her direct line of fire should she attack. The woman didn’t do more than follow him with her eyes. “Karen?” he asked, and his heart dropped when there was no answer.

“I’m afraid no one can hear you. I have put us into a small temporal bubble. I assure you, young Peter, I mean you no harm. I wish only to converse. It has been many thousands of years since I was last able to give myself form. I can only do it when the Stones are united, you see.”

“If you mean no harm, why did you cut me off from my friends?” Peter asked warily. His Spidey sense had gone silent after the initial surprise of her appearance, but he wasn’t exactly in a trusting frame of mind.

She shrugged and looked around, taking in the grandeur of the Sanctum. “I needed to speak with you alone. I doubt your friends would have allowed it. Your Mr. Stark isn’t the only one who felt love for you. What a pleasant space, if a bit quaint.”

Peter’s brows rose. Quaint? Just where had this woman come from? “Well, I suppose it’s nothing compared to living inside superpowered murder-stones, but it’s home.”

Her attention was back on him now, sharp and assessing, and his Spidey sense gave a faint tingle in his spine before fading again. “The original purpose of the Stones was never for destruction. When my people created them, it was to bring balance back to the Universe. True balance, not the lies that the Titan spewed.”

Curiosity won out over caution (_ dammit, kid, we gotta teach you the joys of self-preservation, _ Mr. Stark’s voice said in the back of his mind) and he crept down the wall until he was on one of the many desks scattered about the Sanctum and crouched into a sitting position. “Your people?”

“Yes. I’m afraid the name of our race is lost to time, and you would not be able to pronounce it. We were the pinnacle of progress at one point. Medicine, science, education, a government that allowed no one individual to go hungry.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Oh, yes. But, as many who accomplish great things do, we fell to our own hubris. The Universe outside of our planet was in upheaval. Lack of resources, war, drought, famine, slavery...it seemed as though progress had halted, balance between death and life, evil and good, had fallen. We felt it was our duty to fix it. So I led an expedition to the far reaches of the Universe, searching for knowledge and materials that would allow us to create something powerful enough to overcome the evils of our world.”

“You created the Stones,” Peter breathed, eyes widening.

“We did. It took almost two thousand of your Terran years to do so, but we did it.”

“Woah, you’re immortal?”

“We were, yes.” She drifted a bit closer, ropes of light stretching from her to the Stones. Which were definitely vibrating.

A pang of sorrow went through Peter at her statement. He knew what _ were _ meant. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. Death is something our people did not face with grace. However, after many years of watching life from afar, I accept that it is as natural to take your last breath as it is to take your first.”

Peter cleared his throat and looked away, partly because she was a little too dazzling this close, and partly because he couldn’t stand the gentle sympathy in her gaze, as though she knew how the subject of death made his stomach clench. “How - how are you doing that? The, the sparkling and the shining.” He motioned towards her.

“I am the personification of the power of the Infinity Stones, you could say.” She turned and drifted towards a bookshelf.

“Um. Dr. Strange doesn’t like us touching his books,” Peter said uneasily. It was one thing to face a celestial being of power without fear. It was quite another to risk the wrath of the Sorcerer Supreme who, as Mr. Stark had put it once on their long ride to Titan, did bitchy like it was his job.

“Do not worry, young Peter. I will not harm the Sorcerer’s things.”

“So, personification of power?” he prompted, eyeing her hand where it drifted a little too close to one of the book covers.

“Yes. You see, once we had created the Stones, we realized we had no way to bridge the power between them. They were simply six separate entities. A force on their own, but not enough to do what we needed. By that point, we were desperate. The Universe was shattering around us, or so it seemed. Disease had reached our people, and even with all our knowledge we could not stop the plague.”

“Oh,” Peter said with a small voice. “That’s really terrible.”

“Yes. Never before had we faced our own mortality. We were a long-lived race. It was terrifying.” She didn’t look too terrified now as she moved over to one of the many odd artifacts kept around the Sanctum and bent down to study it. “In my desperation to save my people, I came up with a way to create that bridge.”

Peter hopped off the desk and took a few steps towards her, fascinated despite himself. “What was it?” 

“There is no greater power than that of what you would call the soul. I put my consciousness, my essence, into the Stones and used it to bind them together.”

“That - really? So the soul is like, real?”

She shot him what might have been an amused look. “Yes, young one. Though after your recent experiences, I would have expected you to have figured that out on your own.”

Peter looked down and shrugged. “I’ve had other things on my mind, I guess,” he said and scuffed his foot on the floor. 

A tingling warmth on his chin had him tipping it back up, and he realized it was the woman’s fingers. She was only a few feet away now, but Peter couldn’t find it in him to be afraid. “Yes. I have felt your grief and despair. I am sorry. It is my mistakes that led to your pain.”

“I - you were just trying to help. And. You did, right? I mean, the Universe was _ ending _ -”

She dropped her arm and tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps, perhaps not. If there is one thing I have realized as I watched from the Stones, it is that the Universe has a way of correcting itself. It was self-importance that led me and my comrades to believe we knew what was best for all life.”

“What - no! Wanting to save people...doing everything you can to do so, that’s not self-importance. That’s being a hero.”

“Perhaps. Your father had the right of it, in the end. He once suffered the same delusions as I did, that he knew best how to save the world. He learned, though, and corrected. He learned to listen to others, to let their voices be heard. A difficult thing for the powerful. Something many of his comrades did not internalize.”

Peter didn’t need to ask who she meant. He knew what had happened with Captain America during the situation with the Accords, probably in more detail than Mr. Stark had ever wanted him to. He had good hearing and people tended to forget about the fifteen-year-old kid hanging out in the other room. “He was pretty great,” he said and cleared his throat when his voice came out rough. “He, uh, wasn’t my dad, though.”

“Not in the usual sense.” She floated towards a set of swords in a glass case. “But he loved you, wanted to provide for you and protect you and shelter you from the harshness of the world. What is that, if not paternal instinct?”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you, I saw his mind, felt his soul when he used the Stones.”

Peter looked away. “Why did you let him die?”

“I cannot change the nature of the Stones,” she said gently. “I cannot even use them, outside of directing the power to suit the wishes of the wielder and creating small workings like this temporal bubble. If I had more control over them, I would never have allowed Thanos to do what he did.”

“You created a weapon of mass destruction that you can’t even control?” Peter asked, incredulous. 

“As I said. Hubris. Idiocy of the highest order. I assumed my people would always be the wielders, I put so much faith in their goodness, their _ rightness. _ And for a time, it worked. For three hundred years, my people wielded the Infinity Stone to do good in the Universe. It was a time of peace, of happiness among all the stars. I never doubted that I had done the right thing, even living the half-life I doomed myself to.” For the first time since they began talking, she seemed distressed. “Tell me, young one, what happens when somebody gains power?”

That was easy. “Other people try to take it.”

She smiled a small, sad smile. “Yes. We were betrayed. Nobody is immune to greed. Not everyone agreed on how to use the Stone, you see. There was, for the first time in our history, true infighting. There was a faction that wanted to do more than be peacekeepers. They decided it was our responsibility, our right, to use the Stone to lead.”

“Oh, because dictatorships always go over well,” Peter mumbled.

“Yes, that was the feeling of many of my people. Eventually, the stone was stolen by one we thought an ally -”

Peter finally realized that she kept using the singular. “Wait. Stone?”

“Yes. When I bound them with my soul they became one, for a time. The person that stole the stone was...corrupted. His thoughts were dark, his resolve undaunted. He was going to force the Universe into submission, make it bow down to his mistress.”

Peter leaned forward. “His mistress?”

“Lady Death. A being whose power grows with the passing of each soul. Not evil, but ruled by her nature. The Infinity Stones had stolen many deaths from her maw, and she manipulated the thief, my kinsman, into using them to further her glutton.”

“She sounds awful,” Peter said.

“She is what she is, nothing more, nothing less. One side of the scales, and on the other, Eternity.”

“So did he succeed, then?”

“No. When it became clear that there was nobody who could stop him after he destroyed my homeworld and turned his sights on others, I came up with a plan. I gathered all my strength and used it to break the Infinity Stone back into separate pieces and spread them across the Universe. I chose six champions to watch them. The original Sorceress Supreme was one of them. For a very long time, my plan was successful. I lay dormant for most of that time, able to see but not interact, my soul shorn into pieces.”

“Like a good Lord Voldemort,” Peter quipped. When she just blinked at him (yeah, still getting used to those sideways lids), he drooped. “I guess Mr. Stark never actually read the books, so you have no idea who that is. So, the Stones were separated until Thanos came along.”

“Yes. Yet another being manipulated by Death, though his was always an evil nature that needed only a bit of prodding to do her will.”

Peter picked up the chair he’d knocked over earlier and sat down in it, stunned by the story of how the Stones had come into being. She moved over until she was directly above the box again. He was almost getting used to the light show that was her body. “So. Why are you here now? Talking to me?”

“This is the first time I have been close to whole since I enacted my plan long ago. In that time I have learned much, through the various wielders and caretakers of the Stones. I know how to destroy them so that they can never be used as a weapon again.” She glided forward until they were eye to eye, and sensing the importance of what she was about to say, he didn’t blink despite the way her brightness made his eyes water. 

“But I need a partner. As I said, I cannot wield the Infinity Stones. I can guide, I can advise, but I cannot harness their power on my own.”

“Me,” he whispered. “You mean me.”

She nodded, then flowed back and down until she was sitting on the edge of the table. Or, giving the illusion of it, anyway. “Yes. In your Mr. Stark’s eyes, there was none more worthy of the mantle of hero. Through his experiences, I saw how pure and true your heart is. Help me with this, young one, and I will give you something in return.”

Peter’s throat clicked when he swallowed and he realized just how dry his throat was and the way he was sweating in his suit. “I don’t need anything in return. If what you’re saying is true, then this will prevent another Thanos. Right?”

Her lips quirked. “Hero, indeed. Yes.”

“How? Dr. Strange said they were too powerful.”

“Yes. An outside force cannot destroy them, not properly. They have only one weakness, and that is their wielder.” Her eyes were lit up with a familiar glint. It was the same one Peter saw in the mirror when he was creating something new, the one Mr. Stark used to get when explaining an upgrade to the suit or a new SI product he was developing. “Even the Stones have limits. If we ask something so huge of them that the power overloads them, they will self destruct.”

“But...Thanos killed half the Universe and they were fine. What could possibly overload them that won’t result in some horrible disaster?”

Instead of answering directly, she asked, “You are familiar with the concept that time is not linear? And that it tends to branch, creating multiple other realities alongside your own? Possibilities, you could say.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s hard not to believe that after hanging out with Dr. Strange and guarding a bunch of stones stolen from different points in time. Wait. If we destroy them...what’s stopping somebody from going back and just taking them from a time they _ did _ exist?” 

“Exactly. Which is where we come in. We can destroy every instance of their existence past a certain point in time, in every possible permutation of reality. It would take an enormous amount of power to do so. Not only would we be destroying powerful objects over and over and over again, infinite times, but we would be erasing the timeline up to a certain point.”

“What point?” His voice wobbled with a mixture of hope and dread.

Her smile was kind. “That is the gift I am offering you. We will take your soul and place it at that point. I cannot control the exact moment, but I think I can manage to place you sometime before Thanos gained all the Infinity Stones.”

He sat back, stunned. “You mean, Mr. Stark -”

“Would be alive, yes.”

His eyes filled with tears. “But - but isn’t it bad? To mess with time that way? I mean, paradoxes and - and -”

“Usually, yes. But there will be no paradox because, outside of your memories, the timeline in front of you, the ones that branched out from Thanos’ victory, will be _ gone. _”

“How is that possible?”

“It is not. Not without destroying the Infinity Stones.”

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “So you’re saying - we use the Infinity Stones to destroy themselves past a certain point in time. Including...the Stones that people might try to bring forward past that point? That doesn’t...it’s -”

“Difficult to comprehend, yes. But I promise you it is possible. I just need somebody to wish it.”

“But won’t I die? I mean, humans can’t use them, right?”

“Your body, here, will die. But your soul - that I will take with us, and place it into the spot in the timeline where the Stones are destroyed across all realities.”

“That seems like quite the loophole.”

She smiled. “Yes. One that nobody would think of if I hadn’t told them, I believe.”

Peter stared at her, and finally, finally, he let the hope spark and take hold. He probably shouldn’t trust her, but, well, he was normally a good judge of character. He could practically feel her sincerity. Though, if the Stones were destroyed... 

“What about you, though? Aren’t the Infinity Stones, like, your body?”

She shrugged. “My soul will be reunited with my people.” She softened at his horror. “It will be a release, young one. Long have I yearned to be free of my self-made prison.”

He realized, suddenly, that he didn’t know her name. “Well, if we’re going to mess with the constructs of space and time together, we should probably do proper introductions. I’m Peter Parker.” He held out his hand and after a moment of staring at it, she smiled and slid her own in his. The same warm tingles he’d felt last time she’d touched him tickled his palm, and he was careful not to press his flesh through her.

“You may call me Aleena.”

“Well, Aleena, how do we do this? Can we start now or do I need to, like, go find a gauntlet? Is it just like making a wish to a genie? Man, I can’t believe I’m going to be a _ time traveler. _ Maybe you should call me McFly. Oooh, or Doc. Or maybe you would be the Doc -”

Her laughter tinkled across the room. “Tony Stark was right, your rambling is quite endearing.”

Peter’s cheeks heated. “He did not call me _ endearing.” _

“Not out loud, no.”

“Did he really, you know...”

“Love you? Yes. You don’t know it yet, but he named you one of his heirs. His dream for the future was that you and Morgan would continue his legacy.”

Peter had to wipe tears from his eyes. “Oh. Why - why didn’t he ever say anything?”

“Tony Stark was a brilliant mind, and he loved very deeply. He just had trouble saying it sometimes, though he always regretted not saying it after your death.”

“Oh,” Peter said. 

She must have sensed how overwhelmed he was because she changed the subject. “There are things we must discuss before you make your final decision.”

“What’s to decide? I can save Mr. Stark and all the other people that died - Vision, Black Widow, Thor’s people -”

“There will be consequences,” she said. I cannot in good conscience accept your agreement until I have told you of them.”

Right. He should probably get all the information before leaping ahead. _ Kid, your recklessness is going to give me a heart attack, _ Mr. Stark’s voice said, and his lips quirked. “Right. Consequences, lay them on me.”

“Those who were interested in the Infinity Stones - because, yes, more than just the Titan thirsted for their power - will not forget their existence once they are destroyed. They will wonder what happened to them and their focus will fall on you. I will be moving all the power of the Stone through you, using your body and soul as a conduit. I believe that some of its essence will remain, and as a result, you will shine like a beacon to those who know how to look.”

“You mean - I’ll be putting the Earth in danger just by existing?”

She shook her head. “No more danger than it was already in. With both the Time and Mind stone here and in use, somebody would have come eventually. If not Thanos, then other beings who quested for them. This way, at least, they will not hold any of the Stones for themselves. Thanos will probably still come, if only for revenge, but his strength will be less than half of what it was.”

“Oh.” Peter paused to take that in. “So, the Earth will still be in danger, but maybe less than before?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “There is a small chance that the remnants of the stone will change you, in a small way.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, change.”

“Perhaps a better word would be _ enhance _.”

“What, like, I’ll be able to travel back in time, or something? Or change real guns into bubble guns with my mind, or -”

“Nothing so powerful,” she said with a laugh. “No, you will be perhaps a bit stronger, a bit faster. You may pick up an ability or two, but it will not be, ah, as pronounced as what you experienced after your bite.”

“But I’ll still be, well, me?”

“Your mind and spirit will remain intact.”

“So basically, I’ll be moving the target from Earth in general to my back, and I might get a few upgrades.”

“Yes, that’s a good summarization. I should warn you, as well, that using the Stones like this will be painful.”

“What, you mean harnessing the power of the Universe to change time and reality will hurt? Color me surprised.”

“This is no joking matter. You have not, and never will again, feel pain like this. And throughout it all, you must not waver. Not for a moment.”

He sobered at her earnestness. “I understand. I want - I want to try. It will be worth it, I know it will.”

She studied him for a long moment before sighing. “Very well. The first step is for me to merge the Stones into one again. In that form, you will be able to hold it in your bare hand. I will not be able to hold the temporal bubble and do this at the same time, so you much act quickly, before we are interrupted. Keep your goal in mind - you must want it more than anything else, and you cannot waiver in your determination. This is important. Your will is what will drive this forward.”

Peter straightened, then nodded once. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” she said gently. Then, “Are you ready, Peter Parker?”

He stood and nodded, resolve firming. “I am.”

“It was an honor to meet you. Do not waste this second chance.”

“I won’t. It was a, uh, honor to meet you, too, Aleena.”

He felt the moment the temporal bubble collapsed, as though his ears had just popped. Aleena’s form disappeared along with it and the Stones rose from their bed, glowing so brightly that Peter had to close his eyes and hold up an arm to shield them. Power thrummed, vibrating through him, and he heard the crash of books and display cases falling around him. “Dr. Strange is going to be so mad,” he moaned, forgetting for a moment that if everything worked the way it was meant to, this moment would have never happened. 

It pressed down on him, a miasma of color that burst behind his closed lids. Just when he was sure it would kill him, the pressure stopped. He blinked his eyes open, taking a moment let the spots fade. Floating in the middle of the room where there had once been six stones, was now one. It was the size of his fist and glittered with all the different colors of the Infinity Stones. It was beautiful, dazzling, and it called to him.

“The Arkenstone,” he said out loud with fake reverence, using humor to break through the hold it had on him. Too bad nobody was around to appreciate his wit and stellar pop culture references.

Remembering suddenly that they were short on time, he stepped forward and reached towards the Stone. He hesitated just before he touched it. It felt like sparks were dancing across his skin, and not in a fun way. The telltale sound of a portal opening sounded behind him, and panic had him grabbing the Infinity Stone out of the air and whipping around. Pain exploded through him just as he caught sight of Dr. Strange rushing through the portal, followed by Steve Rogers and Mrs. Stark.

He screamed and dropped to his knees. He was burning from the inside, it hurt, it _ hurt - _

“Peter!”

“What’s happening?”

_ Focus, Peter. You must focus! _Aleena’s voice cut through the haze his mind had fallen into. Right. The plan. Save Mr. Stark. Stop Thanos and anybody else who wanted to use the stone.

_ Take me back. Destroy the Stones, all of them, every iteration, every reality... _he imaged the Infinity Stones turning into dust, over and over and over again, no matter who was wielding them or why, with one exception. 

_ We didn’t discuss this, _Aleena’s voice said, more amused than upset.

_ Mr. Stark cares about him, _ Peter said as an explanation, unapologetic. 

_ We will lose some of the time you would have gained if we use the power to keep Vision alive, but not too much. _

Even through the pain, Peter felt relief. He’d never forgive himself if he sacrificed somebody in the process of saving the rest. Just dissolving the stone in Vision’s head would kill him without a doubt.

Soon all of his focus was on remembering his goal through the burning. His eyes were open and he could see Dr. Strange desperately creating geometric pattern after geometric pattern as he attempted to use magic to get to him through the bubble of power surrounding him. His heart clenched when he saw that Mrs. Stark was crying, hands clamped over her mouth. He swallowed down his guilt at adding to her pain, even if he planned on erasing it. There was just no room for that -

It felt like something had hooked behind his sternum and gave a great wrench, and then he was sailing away from his dying his body, out of the Sanctum, and into whirling nothingness.

For a long moment, everything paused, even the pain. Then Aleena spoke, her voice echoing all around him. “Prepare yourself. Do not falter.”

His existence became agony, his only anchor the determination to see this through. Never had anything hurt the way this did, it resonated so deeply, in places he didn’t know could feel pain. Images flew in front of his mind, too fast to process, Infinity Stones dissolving into nothing, rage and sorrow and defeat falling across the faces of whatever being held them at the time. Satisfaction swelled every time that person was Thanos, and Peter never got tired of his shocked disbelief, the frantic shouts as he watched different Thanoses from different dimensions lose the Stones, over and over and over again.

Vision was there, too, falling to his knees as the Mind Stone embedded in his forehead flared, flooding him with life-giving power, leaving an echo of itself behind before falling apart. It went on and on and on, and Peter was starting to wonder if it would never end, if he’d doomed himself to an eternity of _ this - _

Just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped. Peter hadn’t even realized that he’d been missing the feeling of a body, of bone and sinew and blood and skin, until he was once more wrapped in it. Disorientation was a mild word for what he felt, and it took a long moment to realize that he was in the midst of swinging through the air from one of his webs, the suit Mr. Stark had made him snug against him and so, so wonderful.

Sound and smell and taste slammed into him, his Spidey senses screamed, and then there was a loud popping sound and something slammed into his stomach, knocking him off course and into what he knew from past experience was a wall. He ricocheted and landed on his back on a metal surface with a loud hollow _ boom. _ Agony bloomed from his stomach and the tell-tale warm wetness of blood spread across his skin.

“Seriously?” he yelled when he realized that he’d just been _ shot. _ Sure, it was nothing compared to the torment that was being ripped from your body and having all the power of the Infinity Stones running through you, but it still freaking hurt.

_ I’m sorry, Peter, _ Aleena’s voice, thin and reedy, said. _ I warned you that I had no control over where we landed. _

A pulse of energy that he recognized as an extremely watered-down version of what the Infinity Stone had been made of pulsed through him, leaving him gasping and shuddering. _ This will help you live until help arrives. _Her voice was fading, now, and tears that had nothing to do with his gunshot wound fell from his eyes.

“Aleena, I’m sorry.”

_ Don’t be. This is what I wanted. I can feel we have succeeded. The Stones are gone, and they will never return. Be better than those who came before you, Peter. _

“I will,” he whispered. 

A swirl of energy and he felt her fade from his mind, death finally claiming what might have been the oldest living thing in the Universe. His tears fell faster. It was true that they'd just met, but after traveling through so many timelines as they erased them, having her in his mind through that endless eon of pain, he felt as though he knew her.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to tune back into his new reality - or should he say his old one? Confusing. He’d been slightly aware of Karen’s voice in the background listing off his vitals and telling him she was calling for help, but it wasn’t until a voice he thought he’d never hear again came over the comms that his focus snapped back. 

“-eter, Peter, do you hear me? Come on, kid, don’t do this to me.”

“Mr. - Mr. Stark?” he whispered.

“Peter," Mr. Stark breathed. "Okay, buddy, listen, help is on the way. I’ve got two of the legion a few minutes out, and I’m right behind them. Can you give me a sitrep?” Mr. Stark sounded so relieved, and if he wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood on top of what he thought might be a shipping container in the middle of a warehouse that was ominously familiar, Peter would have shouted out his happiness. 

“You - you’re really here,” he said before dissolving into a coughing fit. Agony flared from his wound and Peter wondered if he would ever be in a state of not-pain again. 

“Of course I am, where else would be? Seems like pulling your ass from the fire is a second job these days. Come on, Spiderling, breathe, I need you to breathe. Stay with me, Pete.” 

He lay back and just gasped for air. “S-sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just take it easy. Karen said that there are at least three unfriendlies there. Are you somewhere safe until I can get to you?”

Peter grimaced and forced himself up onto an elbow, ignoring the way his vision darkened at the edges. He blinked rapidly and looked around. Yep, he was in a warehouse. From his vantage, he could see two more containers and large, blacked-out windows. Three men were talking at the foot of the container, arguing over who should climb up to finish him off.

One of them had an accent, a thick drawl that sounded like it was straight out of a western, and memory bloomed. Peter had stumbled across a weapons deal about five months before Thanos had sent his minions to get the Stones. He remembered because it was just at the beginning of his summer vacation. 

The weapons had, of course, turned out to be some sort of Chitauri-Earth technology hybrid specifically designed to keep doing damage after the initial shot, counteracting those enhanced humans with fast healing capabilities. The first time around he hadn’t been distracted in the middle of everything by his future self crash-landing into his consciousness, and had gotten away with just a light graze that took twice as long as it usually would to heal and an irritated mentor breathing down his neck.

“I think I’m in trouble, Mr. Stark,” he said quietly as the argument ended and one of the men began climbing up the side of the container. “These aren’t normal guns...”

“Uh, not normal how?”

Peter pushed himself to his feet with shaky limbs, trying to ignore the blood running down the side of his body, soaking his suit. He managed to get himself upright just as a man managed to scramble to the top of the container. 

“I don’t suppose we could talk about this?” he said as the man aimed a large, bulky and slightly-glowing gun at him. “No? Alright, well, don’t say I didn’t offer.”

His webbing latched onto the gun and tugged it out of the man’s hand. With a twist of his torso, it went sailing over the ledge to clatter to the ground, causing a round of cursing from the men still below when it discharged. Peter fell to one knee when the movement sent his nerves alight. 

“Peter, your blood pressure is dropping dangerously low,” Karen said. “You have lost too much blood and will be losing consciousness in the next two minutes.”

“Gee, thanks for the uplifting words, Karen,” he gasped and fell to his side.

He was vaguely aware of the man in front of him drawing another gun - this one just a garden variety handgun - and aiming it at him, and the sounds of his buddies scrambling up the ladder. Peter's extremities were numb, and he knew he was done, out of juice. 

The sounds of repulsers filled the air and Peter grinned. “Dad’s home. You guys are so screwed.”

A bark of surprised laughter came through his comms, and then the man was being blown off the container by a repulsor blast, his shot going wild. The fight didn’t last long after that and mostly consisted of gunshots and Mr. Stark’s suits kicking ass. He fell asleep to the sound of Iron Man landing beside him and Mr. Stark’s voice in his ear.

oOo

It wasn’t the first time Peter had woken up in the Avenger Compound’s med bay, and he doubted it would be the last. His stomach was sore, and he had that slightly muted feel that the painkillers Dr. Cho had developed for him tended to leave behind. Not as bad as it would be for a normal person, but still a bit fuzzy.

All thoughts of painkillers and doctors fled when he noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. Sitting in a chair next to him, tapping away on a Starkpad, was Mr. Stark. Peter stared at him, taking in the lines of his face, the way his hands moved with surety across the screen. His hair was slightly mussed as though he’d been running his fingers through it, and there was a bit of grease just behind one ear that made Peter think he might have been in his workshop when Karen alerted him that he’d been injured.

But most of all, he noticed that he was undeniably _ alive. _ A low, choked off sound left his throat, pulling Mr. Stark’s attention to him. “Hey, Underoos, back with us?”

Peter just continued to stare, disbelief and joy and all the things he wanted to say bubbling up until it felt like he was choking. His distress must have been obvious because a frown formed between Mr. Stark’s brows before he set his tablet aside and stood, leaning over to put a hand to his forehead.

It was warm and rough with callouses. “You in pain, kid? FRIDAY, get Dr. Cho in here, will ya?”

A trembling began in his lower lip and spread to encompass his limbs at Mr. Stark’s obvious concern, which was rapidly turning to alarm when it became obvious that Peter was about to dissolve into tears. “Kid, you gotta tell me what’s wrong -”

Peter threw himself at Mr. Stark, unconcerned with the various tubes and needles that tugged and ripped at the motion. “Woah!” Mr. Stark stumbled back a step before righting himself, his arms wrapping around Peter in what was probably more of an attempt to catch him than to hug him.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Peter sobbed and clung when Mr. Stark tried to push him back.

Mr. Stark scoffed, but stopped trying to push him away and instead resorted to awkward back-patting. “What’s with the lack of faith, kid? You think I’d let a little gunshot wound do you in? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Peter pulled away about a foot but didn’t let go of Mr. Stark’s shoulders, which resulted in him hunching forward a bit. Peter looked him in the eye, sniffling and ignoring his wet cheeks. “No, I know you’d never let anything happen to me. Because - because you’re amazing, Mr. Stark! You’re always trying to make sure everyone stays safe, especially me. And you take the time to teach me, and, and upgrade my suit, and sometimes you even help me with my homework -”

“Alright, while I’m never one to turn down praise, I need you to lie down, Dr. Cho will kill me when she sees you -”

“Let me finish, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, desperate to get this out. Because now - now he had a chance to say the things he never had before. He moved his hands down to latch onto Mr. Stark’s forearms, allowing him to straighten but not go far. 

“Ever since you first showed up at my apartment, you’ve been looking out for me, Mr. Stark. And I - I need you to know how much it means to me. For a long time it’s been just May and me, and I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you were there.”

Mr. Stark shifted uncomfortably and his eyes darted around as though looking for an escape. “Pete, it’s not a big deal -”

“It is to me. And you - you should know that, that -” jeez, this was harder than it should be, but Peter was determined to do it anyway, “ - that you’re like a fa - like family to me.” Under his hold, Mr. Stark had gone very still and wide-eyed, and Peter was pretty sure that he was about five seconds away from calling a suit to hit Peter over the head with the food tray so he could make an escape. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I need you to know that I - uh, well, that I love you.” The last four words were said in a garbled rush but were clear enough to understand.

Silence fell, heavy and ominous, and they stared at each other, neither daring to so much as breathe for a long moment. Humiliation, an old friend, filled him, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to regret his outburst. Not after those six awful days where he’d had to live in a world without Mr. Stark in it.

Eventually, Peter was forced to take in a breath, and he flinched when the movement pulled at his wound. He curled inward at the spasm of pain and moaned a little, and that seemed to galvanize Mr. Stark into action. “Alright, come on, you need to lay back down. You have a hole in your stomach, for christ's sake. FRIDAY, where is Dr. Cho?”

“She is currently ten minutes away, Boss. She had to drive into town to get a few things.”

“Doesn’t she know that we have people that can do that for us? The kid’s just been shot, she can’t just leave.” Peter let himself be manhandled back into position by gentle hands, something warm and wonderful spreading through him, chasing away the lingering upset from his jaunt through time and subsequent injury.

“Mr. Parker was stable and in no danger. He would have been fine if he hadn’t jumped out of bed to declare his love for you.”

Peter’s cheeks heated and Mr. Stark glared up at the ceiling. “Yes, thank you, FRIDAY. Remind me to donate you to science later.”

“Of course, Boss.”

Mr. Stark sat back down in his chair and they resumed their stare-off from earlier. Finally, Mr. Stark looked away and picked up his Starkpad. “Cho said you should be on your feet in a couple of weeks. I talked to your Aunt - she says you’re grounded for life and that she loves you.”

Peter’s lips twitched. Okay, so avoidance was the name of the game. That was okay, Peter didn’t need anything back. He already felt so light, like he could float away, from the relief of being able to say those words to Mr. Stark. “Bit of a mixed message. I mean, hi, I love you, here’s your punishment?”

“Not really,” Mr. Stark said casually. “Generally, when a parent loves their kid, they react badly when the kid does something stupid like trying to stop a bunch of guys selling super-powered guns all by themselves.”

“I didn’t know they were superpowered!” Peter defended and the familiarity of this argument - the exact one they’d had the first time - made his lips twitch.

Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed. “You think this is funny? You almost _ died, _ Pete. _ In my arms, _like some James Bond girl. Do you have any idea -” he cut himself off and ran a hand through his hair. “On that note, you’re grounded from the labs for a week.”

“What! That’s completely unfair, an overreaction -”

“Don’t care, grounded.”

“I told you I didn’t know -”

“Still grounded.” Peter gaped at him. He hadn’t been grounded last time. Though last time he’d barely been injured. Actually, Mr. Stark had never grounded him before at all, outside of the memorable time he’d taken his suit away.

Realization bloomed slowly as he walked back through their conversation. _Generally, when a parent loves their kid, they react badly when the kid does something stupid like trying to stop a bunch of guys selling super-powered guns all by themselves. _His eyes widened and Mr. Stark glared down at his tablet. 

Peter beamed. “Okay, Mr. Stark. Grounded, I can handle that.”

Mr. Stark glanced up and his lips quirked up on one side. “Like you have a choice, Spider-brat.”

“There is always a choice,” he said solemnly and Mr. Stark snorted.

“Nerd.”

Peter settled back against his pillow, still unable to quite believe that he was here, in the past, with an alive Mr. Stark and a world that hadn’t been traumatized by a mad Titan. He could hear footsteps nearing his room and the familiar scent of Dr. Cho’s perfume wafted in through the open door. He supposed he was lucky she’d even been in town when he was hurt.

All thoughts of thanking her fled when he felt a tingle up his spine. He sat bolt upright, drawing Mr. Stark’s attention to him again. “Mr. Stark, something’s coming.”

He didn’t question it, he just stood and tapped his chest, his tablet clattering to the floor, and a moment later his new nanotech suit flowed over him. Peter still couldn’t get over how _ cool _ that was.

A familiar crackling sound and a slight change of pressure had Peter’s stomach dropping down somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. “Oh, crap,” he muttered just Dr. Strange stepped into their room and batted away Mr. Stark’s repulsor blast. It hit the wall and went through it, leaving a nice new view out onto the running track located in the back of the compound.

His cloak was swirling around him, power crackled along his arms, and he was furious - angrier than Peter had ever seen him, even when Mr. Stark had spent hours needling him out of sheer boredom on their spaceship. And he was looking straight at Peter.

“What,” he growled, “have you done with the Time Stone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I took some liberties with the world-building here. I regret nothing.
> 
> I feel like this needs to be said: I won't be making Peter Parker crazy OP in this. Like Aleena said, he'll get a few upgrades and possibly a minor extra something, but he's not going to turn into a god or anything. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, if you've got the time and inclination, let me know what you think on the way out!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really, really respected Mr. Stark, but sometimes he wished he’d work on his diplomacy skills.
> 
> Or, the first meeting with Dr. Strange doesn't go quite as well as Peter would have hoped.

“I don’t know who you are or what the hell you’re talking about, but you have five seconds to apparate straight back to your tower, Saruman,” Tony said, stepping between them and cutting off Dr. Strange’s line of sight to Peter.

“You’re mixing up your references, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. Both men, unsurprisingly, ignored him.

“This isn’t any of your business, Stark,” Dr. Strange said in a clipped tone and leaned to the side so that he could glare at Peter. His cloak mimicked his action, and Peter resisted the urge to greet it. “I’ll only ask nicely once more. Where is the Time Stone?”

“Time Stone?” Peter squeaked. “Never heard of it.”

Judging by Dr. Strange’s unimpressed eyebrow raise and the way Mr. Stark stilled, Peter had been less than convincing. “Right,” Dr. Strange said, and flexed his fingers, “the hard way it is.”

Peter groaned when a portal appeared under his hospital bed. There was a moment of weightlessness, then his stomach swooped and he was dropping through it, bed and all. He recognized the smells wafting up through the opening - old books and cloth and the tang of magic - and decided that, nope, he was not willing to face the very angry sorcerer alone. 

He lunged forward and just managed to slap his hands against the back or Mr. Stark’s suit and pull. Not expecting it, Mr. Stark stumbled back a step before the suit corrected him, but it was too late. He’d stepped into open air and was now dropping down after Peter.

Peter let go and there was the sound of metal clattering against tile when his bed hit the floor. A moment later, his back slammed into the mattress and the air rushed out of his lungs. The pain that flared from his stomach made his vision go dark. 

He heard the whine of repulsors and when he wasn’t crushed by Mr. Stark’s suit he assumed he’d managed to stop his descent. By the time he could see again, he realized that he must have actually passed out because he was in the middle of a firefight. His eyes widened in horror when the burning page of a book floated down past him, followed by the crash of something large falling some distance away and Mr. Stark swearing.

Mr. Stark whipped past him a moment later in a rush of wind, a rope of magic wrapped around his waist that Peter recognized as one of Dr. Strange’s tricks. Sure enough, a very enraged and slightly singed Dr. Strange was on the other end of the sparking length, torso twisted as he tossed Mr. Stark around like a sack of potatoes.

Peter’s spidey sense tingled and he turned just in time to see Wong open a portal from the top of the stairs. It opened up into what looked like a snowy wasteland and Peter’s heart went up into his throat. He didn’t know all the injuries Mr. Stark had sustained in his mysterious mission in Siberia to retrieve Captain America, but he did know from another overheard conversation (he didn’t mean to eavesdrop! It just happened, really) between Ms. Potts and Mr. Rhodes that he’d come back with frostbite. 

Adrenaline surged and Peter jumped to his feet. Thankfully, Mr. Stark and Dr. Cho hadn’t removed his web-shooters when he was in the hospital (Peter would never take the nanotech casing off of Mr. Stark, either, unless it was life or death, because you just didn’t take another hero’s equipment while they were unconscious). His web slung forward and latched onto the armor just before Mr. Stark went through the portal, then he flipped backward and tugged. 

Mr. Stark slingshotted back, ripping him out of Dr. Strange’s magic’s hold. His repulsors flared while he righted and steadied himself in the air. “Thanks, kid.”

Peter sank to one knee, breathless from pain. That had not felt good. He was pretty sure he’d ripped his wound back open with that stunt. “No - no problem, Mr. Stark.” He swallowed convulsively against nausea. “Anytime.”

Mr. Stark landed next to him and turned his body so that he had one hand pointed at Dr. Strange and the other at Wong. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Fine. Just, you know. Catching my breath.” 

“Liar,” Mr. Stark said. “Just hang on, I’ll get us out of here soon, alright?”

Peter just flapped a hand at him and focused on not doing anything totally embarrassing like vomiting on Dr. Strange’s floor or passing out _ again. _

“Here’s the deal,” Mr. Stark said in a louder voice. “You let us go, I let you live.”

Dr. Strange scoffed. Across the room, a stand that had been hit with what Peter would guess was a repulsor blast was slowly folding in on itself as it smoldered. The vase on top of it slid an inch closer to the edge. He glanced around and winced when he saw that one of the bookshelves had been obliterated, which explained the burning pieces of paper floating through the air.

This was not the way he would have wanted Dr. Strange and Mr. Stark to meet in the new timeline. He had a feeling they were going to need to work together once the aliens started poking around. 

“Please, you’re outnumbered and outclassed. Your ward _ will _be answering some questions for me, whether you like it or not.”

Peter only had a few seconds to feel warm and fuzzy over Dr. Strange making that mistake for the second timeline in a row before the stand holding what was probably the priceless ashes of the original Sorcerer Supreme or something buckled the rest of the way.

“He’s not saying shit to you -”

Peter squeaked and flung out a strip of webbing, which latched onto the blue and gold vase just before it hit the ground. He tugged it back and let out a breath of relief when it slapped into his hands. The extra wave of pain was totally worth it.

It took him a few long seconds to realize that everybody had gone silent and was staring at him. He cleared his throat and struggled to his feet after setting the vase down carefully, hand pressed into his now-blood-soaked side. 

“Kid, did you seriously just -” Mr. Stark sighed and brought his hand up to pinch at where his nose would be if he wasn’t still in the armor. “Of course, you would save the crazy magical kidnapper’s _ vase. _”

“Well, it’s rude to break his things,” Peter said a little indignantly. “And I’m sure Dr. Strange would have given me back.” He looked over at Dr. Strange for confirmation, then cringed at his narrowed eyes.

“You know my name. How?”

“Uh.”

“You also know exactly what the Time Stone is. You know why I can feel its remnants on you.”

“Well, that is. I mean.” Peter inched a little closer to Mr. Stark. Was he supposed to keep the fact that he was a time traveler secret? Aleena said he didn’t need to worry about paradoxes or whatever, and it’s not like Dr. Strange would scoff at the concept of time travel.

One of Mr. Stark’s heavy gauntlets fell onto Peter’s shoulder. “Listen, as fascinating as this discussion about rocks is -”

_ “Time Stone,” _ Dr. Strange gritted out and Mr. Stark just waved his other hand in the air.

“Yeah, right, that. Whatever. The kid’s about to bleed out and die if we don’t get him medical attention. So you’re going to send us back to my compound right now, or I’m going blow this whole place up. Capiche?”

Dr. Strange shifted, and though he softened a bit when his eyes flicked down to the red stain spreading across Peter’s hospital gown, he didn’t seem to be in the mood to give in. “Nobody’s leaving.”

The tension racketed back up and all three of the adult males fell back into fighting stances. Peter ran a hand down his face in exasperation. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you conflict resolution techniques?”

“What do you think the suit is, kid?” Mr. Stark quipped just as Dr. Strange said, “I’m quite good at resolving conflict these days,” while sparks ran up his arms and his cloak flared.

“Right,” Peter muttered. “Obviously I’m the only mature person in this room.” Then, more loudly, “If I answer your questions, will you look at this?” He gestured down at his torso, which he was pretty certain had mostly stopped bleeding. Enhanced healing was awesome.

“Absolutely not -”

“I could do that.”

Peter looked up at Mr. Stark and widened his eyes guilelessly. He’d noticed, mostly by accident, that it tended to soften him up just a smidge when he did that. “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. Doctor is a real title. He’s a surgeon. Or he was. Now he’s the Sorcerer Supreme. A Sorcerer Surgeon?” 

“How do you know that?” they both said at the same time and Peter grinned. 

“I’ll only tell you if you both calm down. No more shooting or sparking at each other. And no more portals!”

Mr. Stark’s mask retracted and Peter squirmed when he was subjected to the full force of Mr. Stark’s unimpressed glare. “Been holding out on me, Pete?”

Peter flinched when he realized that Mr. Stark sounded a bit, well, hurt under all that annoyance. He didn’t think he would have caught it if he didn’t know him so well. He certainly knew what pure unadulterated annoyance looked like on Mr. Stark, since he’d inspired it enough times.

“No!” He took a step forward and looked up at him as earnestly as he could while trying to ignore the throbbing in his side and the stares of two Sorcerers. “I swear, Mr. Stark, I just haven’t had a chance to talk to you about it. It’s all really, um, new. I was going to tell you!” Despite not having actually thought about what to do with all this knowledge, he knew that it was true. “There’s nobody I trust more,” he finished sincerely.

Mr. Stark’s expression softened and he cleared his throat. “Well. Alright, then. But I’m still not letting some quack look at you, we’re going back to Dr. Cho -”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Strange said and just like that the violence was thick in the air again.

Peter latched onto Mr. Stark’s arm before he could raise it to point at Dr. Strange. “He’s not a quack, I promise! Ask FRIDAY if you need to. Please, Mr. Stark, don’t you trust me?” It was a low blow, but Peter really needed to diffuse this situation before their egos blew up the whole place.

Mr. Stark’s face twisted into a grimace and then he muttered, “FRI?”

“It seems Mr. Parker is correct, boss. Doctor Stephen Strange was considered one of the best neurosurgeons in the field until an accident permanently rendered him incapable of performing surgery. Two years ago he disappeared after multiple experimental techniques failed to return full use of his hands -”

Dr. Strange scowled when Mr. Stark’s attention flitted to his scarred, shaking hands. “I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of performing a checkup and doing some stitches, if need be.”

“See?” Peter chirped. “Everything’s fine. Dr. Strange will give me a checkup, and I’ll answer his questions.”

“Pete, I’m not letting a stranger interrogate you, especially after kidnapping you -”

_ “Attempting _ to kidnap me, and besides, Mr. Stark. He’s not a stranger, not to me.”

Everyone went silent and Dr. Strange dropped his hands to his sides. “You’re from the future,” he said.

“Um. Kinda?” Peter said.

“From the what now?” Mr. Stark said. “Dr. Cho must have given you too many painkillers because now you’re hallucinating -”

“I am not!”

“It would explain the residue from the Time Stone. Though, it’s not the only Infinity Stone you used, is it?” Dr. Strange asked, tone calculating.

“Oh, um. I kinda used...all of them?”

“Impossible. If you had, you’d be dead.”

“I mean, technically, my body didn’t survive it -”

_ “What?” _ Mr. Stark exclaimed and Peter waved his hands in the air.

“Oh, no, I mean, my, like, spirit survived or whatever, and since we destroyed all the other timelines -”

_ “What,” _ Dr. Strange said. For geniuses they sure were repetitive.

“ - Aleena was able to bring me back to a time in the past before Thanos used the Infinity Stones to destroy half of all life in the Universe. Oh, Mr. Stark, you were right by the way - aliens really _ were _ out to get us.”

Wong broke the long silence following his babbling, during which Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange just stared at him, by snorting and lowering his arms. “Right. I’m going back to my library. Catch me up later, Strange.”

Dr. Strange didn’t even look up at him. He just pointed to a couch that had somehow stayed standing with one shaky finger and said, “Sit. Let me see your wound.”

“Oh, um, sure, okay. Though, I think it’s already healing - I have super healing, you know. Since I’m Spiderman.”

“I thought that was a secret,” Mr. Stark said. “What, does future-Peter not care about that anymore?”

“Oh, no, I care! It’s just, Dr. Strange is practically a teammate. Or he will be? Has been? Man, that’s confusing.”

“Couch. Now,” Dr. Strange snapped and Peter slunk over to it, recognizing an impending blowup, Mr. Stark right on his heels. “You can take off the suit, Stark, I’m not going to hurt a kid.”

Mr. Stark looked less than convinced, so Peter cut in. “It’s okay, really, Mr. Stark. Six months from now you two are, like, best friends.” Okay, so that was an extreme over-exaggeration, but it’s not like they could ever call him out on it. He shrunk away from both of their glares. Well, maybe they could. Still, the suit retracted, which Peter counted as a win.

He sat down as meekly as he could. Mr. Stark sat down next to him and watched warily while Dr. Strange strode across the room. He waved his hands and Peter watched in amazement while debris picked itself back up off the ground, pieces of books and furniture melding back together until they were whole again before zipping around the room to get back into place. Mr. Stark was tense next to him, watching it happen with lips pressed together, but he didn’t comment. 

His silence was a sign that Peter must have really freaked him out, and after a second of hesitation, he tentatively put his hand on his arm. Mr. Stark’s eyes darted to the side to look at him, and though his posture didn’t relax, he seemed a little less on the verge of screaming at someone. 

Dr. Strange reached them just as the last item, the vase that Peter had saved, returned to its proper place. Peter blinked when he made a motion and a black bag popped into existence at his feet.

“Woah. That’s so cool. Where did that come from?”

Dr. Strange knelt down in front of him and unzipped the bag. Peter could just make out a stethoscope. “Pocket dimension,” he said casually, reaching down and plucking the stethoscope out.

Mr. Stark made a pained sound and Peter had to suppress a laugh. He really did hate magic. “Wow. Magic’s pretty amazing. Can anyone learn it?”

“No, absolutely not, I refuse to let my protegé start practicing voodoo.” If Peter hadn’t lost so much blood recently, he was sure his cheeks would be bright red. It was the first time he could remember Mr. Stark calling Peter his protegè.

Dr. Strange rolled his eyes and put the ends of the stethoscope in his ears. “We prefer the term Mystic Arts.”

“Of course you do.”

“Tell me what happened,” Dr. Strange said. “And lift up your gown.”

Peter grabbed the edge of the gown, glad that he had sweats on underneath for this little adventure. He winced when he tried to lift his arms higher than his chest, and Mr. Stark sighed before reaching over to help him bundle it up so it stayed put on its own.

Peter set his hands back into his lap and looked down at them, trying to ignore the heat climbing up his neck. Guess he had enough blood left to blush, after all. Sometimes Mr. Stark was just so nice. Not all the time, of course, Peter had been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue more times than he could count, but. Every once in awhile, he’d do something small and kind without even thinking about it.

Dr. Strange reached forward and helped peel the part of the gown stuck to him by drying blood away gently. “So? How did you get injured?” he prompted again.

“Oh, um.” Peter shivered when the air hit his skin. “I guess I got shot?”

Dr. Strange stilled and raised a brow. “You guess you got shot,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah. Usually, it wouldn’t be such a big deal -” Mr. Stark made a sound at that but didn’t otherwise interrupt “ - but these guns were different.”

“Different how?”

“They didn’t use regular bullets,” Mr. Stark interjected. “They released a substance that continued to eat away at the flesh around it, which made it difficult for Pete’s healing factor to keep up.” 

He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and Peter leaned back against it and in towards Mr. Stark a bit, grateful for the small amount of heat he exuded. It was cold in the Sanctum without his suit. Mr. Stark dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed when he let out a small shiver. The stethoscope was freezing against his chest and back.

“Dr. Cho got it cleaned out, so he should be able to heal normally now, but even he can’t bounce back immediately from that. Especially when asshole sorcerers kidnap him out of his sickbed,” he said pointedly.

“Technically,” Dr. Strange said as he started undoing the bandages, “I brought the bed with him. If you hadn’t come along, he’d be fine.”

Mr. Stark stiffened, and sensing an imminent snark explosion, Peter cut in. “So. You had questions, Dr. Strange?”

“Oh, one or two,” he said and though his tone was snappish, his hands stayed gentle. Still, Peter couldn’t help but suck in a breath when he pulled the bandage away from the wound.

“Gross,” Peter breathed. The hole was much bigger than what he’d expect from a normal gunshot wound, and the edges were swollen and almost black - probably from whatever substance had been released. He’d definitely popped his stitches, and it was still bleeding sluggishly.

“Hmm,” Dr. Strange said and started poking around at it.

Peter closed his eyes and turned his face towards Mr. Stark, breathing deeply until the smell of grease and metal and cologne drowned out the blood and burned flesh. 

“This wound already looks a few days old. I’ll put in a few stitches to stop the bleeding again.”

Peter let out a breath of relief when the prodding stopped and opened his eyes to watch Dr. Strange pull out a syringe. “This will numb the area,” he explained and held it up to Mr. Stark to examine the label without being prompted.

“Oh, regular drugs don’t work on my metabolism,” Peter said with a shrug. “You should save that for somebody who can use it.”

Dr. Strange frowned and Mr. Stark cut off whatever he was about to say. “If you double the dose, it should last for about ten minutes. You sure you can handle stitches, doc?” he said and gestured at Dr. Strange’s shaking hands.

“For something like this? Yes. Usually, I’d worry about scarring, but I’m guessing that’s not an issue with your ward.”

“It’s Peter,” Peter said when he realized he hadn’t introduced himself yet. “Peter Parker. And, nope, no scarring for me. You wouldn’t believe some of the stitch jobs I’ve done on myself - um.” He shrunk away at the expression on Mr. Stark’s face.

“Oh, no, Pete, please, tell me all about your amateur attempts at giving yourself medical care.”

“Uh.”

Mr. Stark raised a brow and Peter flinched when Dr. Strange wiped an alcohol pad around the wound. “It was before I met you?”

“So, Peter. Where is my Time Stone? Because I could have sworn you said something about destroying all of the Infinity Stones earlier.”

“I’d...rather not answer that while you’re performing medical procedures on me, sir.”

Dr. Strange’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said and Peter perked up when he used magic to thread the needle he’d just finished sanitizing. “Then tell me where you came from. How much older are you than you look?”

“Oh! That’s...kind of hard to answer? Or, well, those are actually two separate questions. I guess I’m about five and a half months older, but I came back from almost six years from now.”

Mr. Stark was staring at the side of his head, but for once was staying quiet. Peter winced when Dr. Strange pressed the syringe into his skin. “Explain.”

“Five and a half months from now some freaky aliens come to earth to take the Time Stone from you. And the Mind Stone from Vision, but I didn’t know that at the time. Anyway, we fought, and one of them kidnapped you and took you to their space ship. Mr. Stark and I saved you, though! But then we decided it was too dangerous to bring the Stone back to Earth, so we decided to go and fight Thanos somewhere else. Uh, that’s the big bad guy who sent the kidnapping aliens, he was also responsible for the attack on New York.”

“I knew it,” Mr. Stark said, but he sounded more tired than vindicated.

“And what did this Thanos want with the Stones?”

“Um. To destroy half the Universe? He was kind of like a really hardcore eco-terrorist. And also in love with Lady Death. I’m not entirely clear on all his reasons. I think he might have been a little, uh, mentally unsound.”

“Right,” Dr. Strange said a little faintly, then cleared his throat and pressed down on the skin around the laceration. “Can you feel that?”

“Just a bit of pressure.”

Dr. Strange nodded and Peter looked away when he picked up the needle. Mr. Stark was looking right at him and he’d gone very pale, but his gaze was steady. His hand was still warm on Peter’s shoulder, which filled Peter with confidence to continue despite the weird tugging sensations coming from his side.

“Well, anyway, we went and fought him, along with this guy named Star Lord and his team of aliens - seriously, Mr. Stark, it was so cool! One of them had _ antenna, _ and another was like, part android, I think? And Thanos dropped a _ moon _ on you and you just like, shook it off. Oh, and I got to use the nanotech suit you made me, even though you were mad at me for sneaking onto the spaceship when you told me to go home -”

“You did what?”

“You’re getting pretty repetitive, there, Mr. Stark.”

“Pete -”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna just abandon you -”

“If we could get back to the point,” Dr. Strange drawled and Peter’s attention snapped back to him.

“Oh, hey, you’re done! Wow, those look good, thanks Dr. Strange.”

“So glad you approve.” He was covering the neat row of stitches with a layer of goop and ignoring the way Mr. Stark was straining around to check his work. “Did we win?”

Peter deflated and looked down at his hands. “Oh. Um, no. We were trying to get the gauntlet off that he was using to harness the Stones, but in the end...he was too strong. You ended up giving him the Time Stone to save Mr. Stark -” he ignored the sound Dr. Strange made at that reveal “ - then he disappeared, and a few minutes later...”

Peter took a deep breath, trying to forget how it had felt to fall apart into ash while Mr. Stark stared down at him in pain and terror. “Pete?” Mr. Stark prompted.

He was frowning, concern evident, and Peter swallowed. “I didn’t find out until later, but I guess he went back to Earth to get the Mind Stone. He - he killed Vision and took the Stone. And then I guess he just...he snapped his fingers. And half of the people in the Universe turned to dust.”

Silence fell after his revelation and Peter blinked rapidly. He didn’t protest when Mr. Stark tugged him over until he was leaning against his side. “I’m sorry, kid, that must have been hard.”

Peter shrugged and picked at a loose thread on his sweats. “I mean, not really, I wasn’t around for it.”

Mr. Stark stilled and Dr. Strange’s fingers spasmed where they were taping some gauze down. “Peter,” Mr. Stark choked out. “What happened?”

“I - that’s why it’s complicated. I - I guess I kinda died? I mean, I was one of the doomed half.” The sound Mr. Stark made was shocking, low and pained and raw. He’d never heard anything like it from him before. Throughout all the time he’d known him, Mr. Stark was always cool and collected, even when he was angry or scared. 

Mr. Stark had pulled his arm back and was hunched forward with his hands in his hair. Peter flapped his hands around and shook his head. “It’s okay! You fixed it, I mean, of course, you did, you’re _ Iron Man. _ You built a time machine and went and took the Stones from, like, different dimensions or something -”

Mr. Stark’s brows shot up and though he didn’t speak he had straightened a bit. “ - and then I woke up and it was five years later and we were fighting Thanos again, and you hugged me! Like, on purpose!”

“I’m sure I did,” Mr. Stark mumbled, and he was smiling a bit, now, the color returning to his cheeks. “So, did we win?”

“If we had, I doubt Peter would be here now,” Dr. Strange drawled, reminding Peter that he was still there.

Peter swallowed when he realized he was coming up to the end of the story, and one of the most painful moments of his life. His eyes were heating and he looked down at his lap to hide it. “We, we won, but Mr. Stark,” his voice broke on his name. “You were so brave. You got the gauntlet, and then you - you used it to kill Thanos and his army. You saved the Universe.”

“He died,” Dr. Strange said bluntly and Peter brought his hands up to cover his face, which had gone very hot while he tried to hold back tears. 

“Aw, Pete,” Mr. Stark sighed and then Peter was being pulled up against him again. If there was one silver lining to this whole Thanos mess, it was all the hugs. “Mind giving us a minute, Glinda?”

“We still don’t know what happened to the Time Stone -”

“Let me rephrase. He just revealed that he’s from an alternate timeline where he turned to ash, was brought back to life, and watched me die. Give me five goddamn minutes with my kid.”

“Not an alternate timeline,” Peter blurted before what Mr. Stark had just said caught up with him. _ My kid. _

The remembered sorrow was pushed out by the warmth spreading from his chest, and the urge to cry receded. He lowered his hands and straightened before taking a breath. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I can - I can keep going.”

He glanced over and smiled a bit at the concern creasing Mr. Stark’s brow. “Really. I’m okay. I mean, none of that really happened at all, now. And the Infinity Stones are gone, so it won’t happen, either.”

The tingle that went up Peter’s spine made him stiffen and he turned his head slowly to look at Dr. Strange, who had gone very, very still. “Gone?” he said, so softly that Peter barely heard him. Sure, he’d always known that Dr. Strange was strong, but this was the first time he’d really internalized that he could probably splat Peter like an actual bug if he wanted. Probably because it was the first time he looked like he wanted to.

“Um. Well. It was for a good cause?” he said meekly and didn’t even protest when Mr. Stark stood and stepped to the side so he was between Peter and Dr. Strange. 

“Seems to me like a weapon that can take out half of the Universe being gone is a good thing.”

“The Sorcerer Supreme has been charged with protecting that Stone for Millennia - we use it to keep this world safe from interdimensional threats. You have no idea how vulnerable we’ve just become without it.”

Peter shrank back against the couch. “But - but Aleena said that the Universe couldn’t be safe while the Stones existed! There would have always been another Thanos. He wasn’t even the first to do something like this!”

Mr. Stark pinched the bridge of his nose. “Peter, who is this - Aleena person you keep mentioning?”

“Yes, I’d like to know that, too,” Dr. Strange said and crossed his arms over his chest, and Peter couldn’t help but think he looked extremely vulnerable, even with his cloak flapping ominously around him.

Peter took a deep breath to settle his thoughts and push the anxiety and guilt that Dr. Strange’s words had sent bubbling up. Had he really opened the Earth up to other, bigger threats? What could be a bigger threat than genocide at a Universal level? In fits and starts, he told them about how he’d met Aleena, the story she’d told him about the origin and history of the Infinity Stones, and finally the plan he’d helped her execute to destroy them.

“And - and then I woke up and I was in a warehouse I remembered busting up a weapons deal in five months before, and the next thing I knew I was getting shot.”

“So what you’re saying is that some cosmic ghost appeared before you, gave you some bullshit sob story, and convinced you to destroy the most powerful objects in the Universe while erasing whole timelines because you _ missed your daddy?” _ Dr. Strange snapped.

“What! No!” Peter knew he was probably red from his chest to the roots of his hair. “I mean, yes, I wanted to save Mr. Stark, of course, I did. Not that he’s my dad! He’s not. He, uh, he’s my, um.”

“Mentor,” Mr. Stark supplied, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and Peter nodded frantically.

“Right! Yes. So. It wasn’t just him. A lot of people died that couldn’t be saved because it wasn’t the Snap that killed them. A really big portion of Wakanda’s military, and the Black Widow, and Vision, and Star Lord’s girlfriend, and, and so many people. And, yeah, we won, but what was stopping somebody else from doing the same thing a couple hundred years from now? I _ had _ to do it, Dr. Strange, and Aleena agreed, even though she knew she’d _ die _, so. So there,” he finished a little lamely.

Mr. Stark was watching him with a small smile on his face, and when Peter met his gaze he nodded a bit. Something in Peter relaxed at his approval.

“Oh, and did Aleena tell you that doing this would turn you into a beacon to all those people who were looking for the Infinity Stones and were less than happy when they suddenly disappeared?”

Mr. Stark’s attention snapped back to Dr. Strange. “What do you mean, beacon?”

“Oh, yeah. That.”

Mr. Stark took a deep breath through his nose, a sure sign of an impending lecture coming Peter’s way. “Please tell me that’s not what it sounds like.”

“They would have come anyway!” Peter protested. “This way, they can’t use any of the Infinity Stones against us. Things are more even. And now the target is me instead of the Earth, which is -”

“If you say that’s better, I am taking your suit and locking you in Hulk’s room until you’re eighteen,” Mr. Stark said.

“Well, it _ is,” _ Peter muttered and crossed his arms over his chest. His stomach was starting to hurt again, he was tired, and he was feeling pretty unfairly attacked at the moment. 

“What do you mean, beacon?” Mr. Stark asked Dr. Strange again.

“Exactly what it sounds like. When the Time Stone disappeared, I immediately went looking for it, and was able to locate an energy signature that contained not just the Time Stone’s magical resonance, but that of what I can only assume were the others, as well. In other words, I was led straight to Peter, and I’m guessing my reaction was a lot milder than others’ will be.”

“How do we turn it off?”

Dr. Strange crossed his arms. “Why should I help the idiot who destroyed the Stone I was tasked to protect?”

The change in Mr. Stark’s demeanor was slight, but a bit frightening. “Because if you don’t, I will make your like a living hell.”

“If you think threats are going to sway me, Stark -”

“That’s enough!” Peter yelled, shocking even himself and drawing the two men’s attention back to him. “Dr. Strange, I know you’re upset, but you have no idea what it was like. I - I did the right thing, and I’m sorry if that makes your job harder, but I wasn’t going to risk anything like that happening again, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Mr. Stark’s lips were turning up into a smirk, and he’d already opened his mouth to say something that Peter was sure would make everything worse. “And Mr. Stark, if he doesn’t want to help, he doesn’t have to. This - this is my problem, and if I have to leave Earth or - or move to Antarctica or something to keep everyone safe, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Determination filled him and he straightened his shoulders. Then Mr. Stark _ rolled his eyes _and scoffed, which, rude, Peter was trying to be a self-sacrificing hero, here. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight you’re crazy. You’re right about the Doc, though. If you want to skulk around your wizard cave and sulk about the loss of your pretty gem -”

“It’s called the Sanctum Sanctorum, and it is hardly a cave -”

“- then I’m not gonna stop you. But don’t expect help the next time you’ve got some interdimensional threat that you can’t handle on your own because you were too reliant on a Universe-ending appliance.”

Peter really, really respected Mr. Stark, but sometimes he wished he’d work on his diplomacy skills. He struggled to his feet - he was ready to go home and go to bed. The day felt never-ending at that point. “Don’t worry, Dr. Strange, I promise we’ll help you if you ever need it, even if you don’t help us now.”

“Hey, you don’t have the authority to promise that,” Mr. Stark protested while reaching out and helping Peter stand.

“All I have to do is show up at the fight and you’ll follow along so you can lecture me about responsibility and curfews,” Peter said.

“That’s - okay, that’s not incorrect, but also, what happened to the starry-eyed respect? Is this your weird version of teenage rebellion? Traveling through time and destroying all-powerful space stones and making friends with stuck-up wizards?”

“I’m not _ rebelling -” _

“God, I don’t even want to know what you actually rebelling will look like, you’re going to give me a heart attack - FRIDAY, check my vitals, how many years did today take off my life?”

FRIDAY’s tinny voice responded from Mr. Stark’s pocket, where Peter guessed his phone was tucked away. “I don’t think science has figured out how to calculate the exact impact on life expectancy that stress has, Boss.”

“Well, it’s two years, _ at least -” _

Dr. Strange looked about ready to portal them into the middle of a desert, but Peter couldn’t help but laugh. Mr. Stark wasn’t perfect, but he was Peter’s and he was alive. Just like that, he was blinking back tears again. These mood swings were getting tiring. Peter was going to blame the blood loss. 

“Alright, it’s time to get little spiders back to bed. It was nice meeting you - oh, wait, no it wasn’t, how about we _ don’t _do this again, huh?”

Dr. Strange just sighed and put his fingers to his temples. A flare of guilt hit Peter hard in the gut at how tired and defeated he looked. “Fine by me,” he said and opened a portal back into the compound, startling the people in scrubs milling around the space, probably trying to figure out where they’d disappeared to.

“We’re all good here,” Dr. Stark said when they looked about ready to start screaming then took hold of Peter’s arm and started guiding him through the portal. Peter looked back over his shoulder. Dr. Strange was just standing there, hands hanging at his sides and looking extremely lost.

Peter stopped walking. Mr. Stark’s hand tightened but he didn’t yank him forward, probably in deference to his wound. 

“I mean it, Dr. Strange,” Peter said. “If you need help, you can call on me. I still think I did the right thing, but I won’t turn my back on the consequences of my actions. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”

Whatever reply he might have made was lost when Mr. Stark finally succeeded in pulling him through the portal, and it snapped shut behind them.

oOo

“What do you mean, I can’t go home?” Peter demanded. 

He’d fallen asleep almost immediately after they’d returned, only pausing long enough to eat a truly enormous bowl of chicken noodle soup. After sleeping for fifteen hours straight, he’d woken up to a barely twinging side and Aunt May asleep in a cot next to him.

Mr. Stark had told her _ everything, _ not that Peter blamed him. Both of them wouldn’t be forgetting the screaming lecture May had given Mr. Stark right after she’d caught Peter in the suit anytime soon. There had been tears and a lot of really creative threats to Mr. Stark’s person.

Being Spiderman was something Peter wouldn’t give up for anything, but he hated how much it stressed May out. She’d only known about it for about five months at this point, and it was still a daily struggle to figure out boundaries and map out their relationship post-accidental-reveal. At least he knew from experience that things would get easier in the following months. Or, maybe not, with this newest hurdle.

Now he was dressed in fresh clothes May had brought him, sitting across the dining room table from Mr. Stark and feeling distinctly betrayed by the turn the conversation had taken.

May sighed and ran her hands through her hair from her spot next to him. “Tony and I have discussed it, baby, and it’s just not safe for you to come home. If I’m understanding everything correctly, you’ve got some sort of intergalactic bounty on your head, or you will. I just -” her voice broke and Peter’s stomach twisted. “I can’t protect you from that.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Peter said a little desperately. “I can protect myself.”

“We both know you can’t handle this one on your own, Pete,” Mr. Stark cut in, not harshly, exactly, but his tone didn’t leave any room for argument. “Not against this. Leaving you without backup, smack dab in the middle of a civilian area, is just asking for you to get killed, along with whoever is within a five-block radius of you.”

Peter looked down at his hands and clamped his lips together to stop any protests. It was difficult to argue the point after seeing exactly what Thanos and his minions could do. Being killed, un-killed, then watching your mentor sacrifice himself right in front of you to save half of all life was a bit of a humbling experience. 

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me, Mr. Stark,” he said quietly.

Mr. Stark clapped his hands together. “Great, then it’s settled, you’ll stay here until we figure out how to get that target off your back.”

“No!” Peter blurted.

Mr. Stark sighed. “Listen, I know being stuck with an old man in Upstate New York isn’t a teenager’s dream -”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’d love to stay here with you, I just - I just - I meant that I don’t want _ you _ hurt because of me, either.”

Mr. Stark cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the table. “What’s with the lack of faith, kid? I can take care of myself.” Peter was shaking his head, but Mr. Stark was going on, talking about security measures and shooting aliens out of the sky with giant lasers. There was pressure building in Peter’s chest, and all he could think about was Mr. Stark’s body slumped up against the remnants of a tree in the middle of a battlefield, taking his last breath. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he got Mr. Stark killed after everything.

“- I can upgrade the Legion -”

Peter stood and slammed his hands down on the table with a resounding crack and both Mr. Stark and May jumped. “I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me again!” he yelled. His chest was heaving and his eyes were burning, and there was a slight buzzing in his ears. “Everyone - everyone kept saying that you did it for me. That you never would have built the time machine if I hadn’t -” his throat closed and his words choked off.

Mr. Stark was half standing, now, and his hand was reaching towards him across the table. “Oh, kid,” he finally said, voice thick. “I don’t doubt it.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled. “If you die this time...there’s no reset. I can’t go through that again, Mr. Stark, I just can’t. Please, please just send me away,” he said, recognizing the desperation in his voice. “It’s just you and me and sometimes Mr. Rhodes and Vision, that’s not enough, you can’t protect me all by yourself, and if you try you could _ die. _ Please, Mr. Stark, you weren’t there. You don’t understand how strong they were.”

Mr. Stark’s expression was pained, but Peter recognized the stubborn tilt to his lips. “There’s nowhere you can go that I wouldn’t follow you, so you may as well stay here where we can set up a good defense system.”

Peter collapsed back in his seat and swallowed, already knowing he’d lost. Running away from Tony Stark was an exercise in futility. There would be no hunkering down in a bunker in the middle of Wyoming to await his fate, though honestly, that wasn’t exactly Peter’s style. He just hated that Mr. Stark would be putting himself in danger for him.

May wrapped an arm around him and pressed her lips to his temple. “It’ll be okay, Peter. Tony will figure it out.”

Peter looked over at Mr. Stark, who had lowered himself back into his seat and had an odd expression on his face. He cleared his throat. “Okay, Spiderling, here’s the deal. I’m going to put out the SOS, see if I can’t get a few more heavy hitters in here. Might be tough to convince people of the threat - believe me, I’ve been trying for years - but I’ve got a few favors I can call in.”

He grimaced and Peter wondered what he planned on doing that was so distasteful. “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark. Really, you don’t need to go through all this trouble for me -”

“I kinda do. Apparently, I already let you down once, Pete, I’m not doing it again. You aren’t going to die on my watch, and I don’t care who I have to call on to make it happen.” He looked more resolute than sick, now, and Peter had a bad feeling about who exactly he meant to 'bring in.'

“You - you didn’t let me down. Me dying wasn’t your fault.”

“Agree to disagree,” Mr. Stark clipped out and then pressed his lips together into a deep frown. “Any world where you die is one that I failed in, got it?”

“I - got it,” Peter was torn between the need to argue and the warmth that was blooming in his chest, pushing some of the anxiety away. 

“Good. Great. Okay. I’m sending Happy with your Aunt to pick up your things. You and I are going to spend the afternoon going over everything you remember about Thanos and his minions. Strength, weaknesses, hopes, dreams.”

“But - what about school?”

“You’re officially being homeschooled. We’ll get some online tutoring.”

“But -”

“You really want Thanos to drop into your high school for a visit?”

Peter slumped against his chair and shook his head. He was not looking forward to telling Ned about this. “Can my friends come to visit?”

Mr. Stark suddenly looked very tired. “Until you’re no longer alien-nip, we’ve gotta cut the contact with civilians.”

Peter turned to May as realization hit. Her smile was strained and Peter was glad he hadn’t been there for what had probably been a really intense conversation when they’d first decided this. He had a feeling all of the progress Mr. Stark had made with May to get her more comfortable with Peter being his superhero protegè had taken a major hit. “It’s okay, we can Skype every day.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt May,” Peter said miserably.

She took a breath and let it out in a rush. “I’m not going to lie, Peter, I’m having a hard time being calm about this, and once this crisis is over, we _ will _ be having another discussion about your role as Spiderman. But for now, we need to get you through this alive, and I know me staying here would just divide Tony’s focus and make it harder to protect you if you’re attacked.”

“Alright, Aunt May,” he said meekly and ignored Tony’s amused expression at his fast capitulation. While Peter had no intention of dropping Spiderman or his relationship with Tony Stark, he wasn’t going to fight about it right now. Better to wait until Aunt May was calmer, anyway.

“Okay. I’ve got a shift coming up this evening, so I have to go. I larb you.” She brushed his hair out of his eyes and this time her smile was genuine.

He leaned forward and put his forehead against hers. “Larb you, too.”

Half an hour later Peter watched the car carrying her and Happy drive away from one of the huge windows at the front of the building. He wondered when he would see her again. “I’m sorry, kid,” Mr. Stark said from a few feet behind him. Peter didn’t jump, since he’d heard him coming.

“Two days ago I was dreading your funeral.” Peter took a deep breath and looked back at Mr. Stark over his shoulder. “All told, I think this is a pretty big improvement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the Irondad begin


End file.
